


Remember Me

by DrownedTrying



Series: South Park Fics [4]
Category: South Park
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-20
Updated: 2019-01-30
Packaged: 2019-06-30 01:08:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15741030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DrownedTrying/pseuds/DrownedTrying
Summary: Part of Tweek died two weeks ago, and it's a void that he believes won't be filled. The world grew colder, the colors duller, and happiness is no longer there. He just wishes he could've saidI love youone last time.





	1. Chapter 1

_"Grief, I've learned, is really just love. It's all the love you want to give but cannot. All of that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go." - Unknown_

* * *

Tears spilled down the blonde’s cheeks as he silently carried the huge wooden box, along with Token, Clyde, and Kenny, which was surprising in its own. Kenny was _never_ apart of their group, so why he had offered to help was beyond anyone. The onlookers watched, some having terrifyingly blank looks on their faces, others crying silently. Tweek understands their pain, but would they understand his?

The boys carefully lower the box onto the large table, each making their way to sit by one another or by family. Father Maxi makes his way up the steps and to the casket, opening the lid. Craig Tucker, aged twenty, an astronomy major and lover of guinea pigs, lays there, unmoving, his eyelids closed over his icy blue eyes. His soft black hair is covered by a blue chullo he never outgrew and rarely took off, his pale skin seemingly glowing in the bright lights of the church. A strangled cry rings out in the full building, and when Tweek turns, he sees Mrs. Tucker sobbing heavily into her hands, her daughter and husband hugging her tightly, no doubt crying as well. 

Doing crazy acts of bravery never appealed to Tweek, mainly because they were too much pressure on his shoulders, but standing and walking across the aisle to the grieving parents and sister of his best friend and boyfriend to wrap them all in a hug, hopefully giving comfort, seemed like nothing. After all, _he_ was grieving, too, and he couldn’t just watch his loved one’s family tear themselves apart, especially at Craig’s funeral.

“My baby’s gone,” Mrs. Tucker weeps, clutching onto Tweek tightly. He winces, his body shaking violently from holding back loud sobs and wails of his own. Instead, he buries his head into her neck, sniffling and hoping that snot doesn’t get on the poor woman’s shoulder. The sound of other people crying and sniffling grew louder, and one glance around the church revealed to Tweek the sight of everyone trying not to cry. Those who wore blank expressions were so desperately trying to keep their faces blank, but the redness around their eyes and noses, not to mention the tears slipping down their cheeks and meeting at their chins exposed their pain. Tweek wasn’t sure if they were smart for trying to keep a straight face, or if they were incredibly stupid.

“We are gathered here today,” Father Maxi’s voice rings out, capturing the attention of everyone in the church, “to celebrate the life of Craig Tucker. Those who knew him said he was friendly and caring, always one to be there for his friends and to provide support to his family. Craig was an intelligent young man, an astronomy major with the promise of reaching his goal of working with NASA. He loved his guinea pigs, Stripe numbers one through six, and he loved his friends and family. The Tucker family requested for his boyfriend, Tweek Tweak, to come up and say a few words, as he had known the real Craig Tucker. Tweek, if you will.” Tweek smiles weakly at the Tucker family, standing and making his way to the podium. His hands were shaking violently, and he tells himself repeatedly not to look at his dead boyfriend. The blonde grips the podium, letting out a shaky breath.

“H-Hello, everyone. I’d say it’s nice to see you all here for the support of Cr-of my boyfriend and his family, but we all know that it’s a devastating day. He was an amazing person. He was a troublemaker, a bird flipper, and a man who loved space and guinea pigs more than he loved school and doing homework.” Some of the crowd laughed a little at that. Tweek forces a smile, swallowing thickly. “Craig was supportive in anything his friends or family chose to do, but what he treasured more than anything was his little sister, Tricia. I can remember the days he would let her play with Stripe number four, and eventually, Stripe number five, watching with pride as his baby sister played and groomed the little guy in the way he had shown her. 

“His death could be described as an accident, but to me, it was a heartbreaking disaster. I know I’m not the only one who will miss his rare smiles, the way his blue eyes glittered when he spotted something he enjoyed, the way he spoke with little excitement. We’re all going to miss his witty remarks, the way he flipped off anyone who was looking at him, and his devotion to those he loved. Please bear with me, as I’m not Catholic, so I’m not entirely sure what else to say when it comes to god and whatnot. However, I’m Irish, and my people have a last blessing for my boyfriend.” Tweek clears his throat, blinking away the tears. He’s glad his voice hasn’t cracked, nor has he let out a cry of distress, but by god, he was about to. 

“May the good earth be soft under you when you rest upon it, may it rest easy over you when, at the last, you lay out under it, and may it rest so lightly over you that your soul may be out from under it quickly, and up, and off, and be on its way to god,” the blonde recites. He figured this was better to say than something from his own religion, as it held more feeling of what he wanted to say. In all honesty, he found it on Google by chance, crying immediately at the words. When he looks up, he finds the whole church crying, not a single dry eye to be found, not even from the goths. Biting his lip, the brown eyed boy walks over to the casket, tears flowing down his cheeks. 

Craig was only asleep. That’s what Tweek told himself, but he knew it wasn’t true. He had seen the truck filled with drunken rednecks collide with his body, heard the crunching and cracking of every bone in his body, smelled the coppery scent of his boyfriend’s blood on the ice-covered asphalt. Tweek had witnessed the death of the ravenette only two weeks prior, but when the deceased looked like they were dreaming on a soft bed of white silk, it was hard to believe Craig was truely dead.

“I love you, Craig, I always will. When I die, please be waiting for me,” Tweek whispers. He leans down and brushes his lips against Craig’s, a sob escaping him as he realizes how _cold_ Craig’s lips were, not holding the warmth they usually held, that they _used_ to contain. Tweek’s body is on autopilot as he steps away from the dark casket and down the steps, seating him next to his boyfriend’s family. Ruby looked up at him, tears in her blue eyes and a sad smile on her face. Mr. and Mrs. Tucker gave him a similar smile, and the lump in Tweek’s throat grew. 

The funeral progressed and finally, it was time to bring Craig to the cemetery. Tweek, Kenny, Clyde, and Token once more carried the coffin and made their way to the burial site. The blonde had to look away from the gravestone, not wanting to see what Craig’s family had requested to be written. He knew, though, that his name was on the marker, only his birthday under his title. That was the only thing he wanted, to be buried with his first love after he dies, no matter if he’s married to another in the future or not. 

Tweek watches in silence, not quite hearing Father Maxi speak, only placing a single rose on the closed casket before it was lowered, then a handful of dirt in the six-foot hole. He stares at the gravesite a little longer, only leaving when Clyde gently pulls him away. Tweek doesn’t go to the after celebration, only heading to the house he and Craig had bought together when they turned nineteen. It was a fair distance away from the church, but Tweek felt as if he needed the walk, not minding if it was only for him to think. 

He needed to be alone for a while.

* * *

Craig watches, his blue eyes wide, as Tweek walks through the door. The tears gives away his feelings on his abnormally blank face. All is silent as the coffee shop owner sheds his tuxedo’s jacket, pulling off the blue bowtie and walking up the carpeted stairs to remove the rest of the monkey suit.

“Honey, are you okay?” Craig asks, following his boyfriend. He knows Tweek’s not okay, but he had learned that asking was a lot better than demanding the blonde to reveal what was bothering him. From the looks of it, Tweek had come back from his funeral. Man, that was fucking weird to think about. “Please talk to me. I don’t even know if you can hear me.” 

Tweek doesn’t respond.

The ravenette sighs, casting his eyes downwards. It’s been like this since he died. He’s tried repeatedly to get Tweek to hear him, only for no response or a sad sigh. Craig only wishes he had seen where he was going that day, and maybe, just maybe, he’d be alive, and Tweek wasn’t hurting. 

“Hey Stripe.” Tweek’s voice catches his boyfriend’s attention. Craig looks up to see Tweek curled up in their shared, yet empty bed with Stripe, one of Craig’s shirts clinging to Tweek’s frame. “Do you miss him? I’m sure you do. I miss him so much. Do you remember how he built that structure for you to play on? He worked so hard on it… I want him back, Stripe. Do you?”

“I want to come back,” Craig sighs. “I’m sorry I left so soon…”

“I wanted to marry him, Stripe, but I guess I never will,” Tweek whispers. He begins to cry silently, holding Stripe close to his chest. “You’re all I have left of him, Stripe. Please don’t leave me, too.” Craig’s heart breaks, and if he could cry, he’d be a sobbing mess. Instead, he sits next to Tweek, rubbing his hand across his boyfriend’s back. He knows Tweek can’t feel his hand, hell, he can’t even feel Tweek’s back, but the gesture calms Craig and causes Tweek to cry even harder. Stripe number six doesn’t make a noise, and after a while, neither does Tweek. Craig looks and discovers that he had fallen asleep, tears still spilling and making the sheet wet. The ravenette stands and places a gentle kiss on Tweek’s cheek, wordlessly leaving the room and going down the stairs.

Being dead was weird and it wasn’t what Craig had expected it to be at all when he was alive. He used to think that you felt nothing but the cold, but Craig doesn’t feel all that cold, mainly kinda warm. He also thought that he would be able to float, but that doesn’t happen. Neither does walking through walls or appearing when he wanted to be seen. It took so much energy that he often didn’t have to move even a hair on Tweek’s head. 

The front door creaked open, and at once, Craig was there, glaring at the intruder. It was Kenny.

“Hey man, chill,” Kenny whispers. Craig’s body goes rigid. Did he hear Kenny correctly?

“Wait, can you see me?” he asks. It was a longshot, but why the fuck not. Kenny grins, his azure eyes sparkling mischievously. 

“Yep, and I can hear you, too.” Craig’s at a lost for words.

“B-but...how...I…” he stammers. The other male chuckles quietly, sitting on the couch.

“Dude. When you die thousands of times, talking to dead people isn’t exactly hard to do. Speaking of, where were you today? I expected you to be at your funeral,” the honey haired male asks, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He stares at Craig, waiting for an answer. Craig scoffs.

“Do you know how fucking odd that sounds? ‘Why didn’t you go to your funeral? Thought you’d be at your own funeral.’ Fuck, man. Maybe I don’t like seeing my friends and family cry.” Kenny nods, as if he understood perfectly.

“Makes sense. I never went to mine, so I see where you’re going with it.” A frown graces Craig’s features, his dark eyebrows furrowing.

“Wait. You’ve never died. Not once, much less thousands of times. How are you standing there if you’ve died?” he interrogates. Kenny just smiles.

“I always die. I’ve died around three thousand, four hundred and seventy-one times. I lost count a few weeks ago because, you know, you died. Though, I always come back, and no one remembers. Maybe you will from now on, since you’re dead. By the way, good fucking job on dying, you fucking prick,” Kenny chastises, giving Craig a look his mom used to give him.

“Not like I wanted to, man. Was gonna propose to Tweek with my next paycheck,” he grumbles. Kenny nods once more, going quiet, but the silence only lasts for a moment.

“Should I tell him you’re here?” Kenny wonders. Craig thinks it over.

“No, I want to,” he finally replies.

“How? He can’t hear you, can he?” When Craig shakes his head, Kenny leans back. “I thought so. How’re you gonna do it, then?”

“Ouija board?” Craig offers. Kenny frowns. 

“No, the guy’s too fucking scared of them. We tried one in our sophomore year, remember? He freaked out so badly, we had to call the ambulance and his parents.” The spirit winces, remembering it as though it happened yesterday.

“I know, but I’d much rather tell him myself. Maybe you can convince him? He’d listen to you, dude,” Craig says. After two weeks of being unintentionally ignored by his lover, Craig’s beginning to get a little desperate. Kenny thinks it over, sighing.

“Fine. I’ll try, but not for a while. The guy needs to grieve, man.” Craig opens his mouth to speak, but is interrupted.

“Kenny? What’re you doing here?” Tweek’s quiet voice mumbles. Both men look over at the tired blonde, taking in the dried tears on his face.

“Dude, we’re caught,” Craig warns, eyes wide.

“I was just passing by to see if you needed anything,” Kenny states, ignoring Craig. Said male narrows his eyes. That smooth motherfucker.

“...No, I’m good. Thanks, though. Don’t wanna be rude, but can you please leave? I just… I wanna be alone for a little bit, okay? We can talk in a day or two,” he yawns. Kenny nods and stands, smiling sadly.

“Of course, man. Talk to you then.” Kenny turns and leaves, but not without making eye contact with Craig. He only hopes the wait goes by quickly.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so there's some confusion with this fanfic, and I'd like to clear it up. 
> 
> Tweek x Kenny is NOT going to happen. I only have it listed in the tags because they don't really converse one on one in the show, so it's them going from acquaintances/enemies to friends. Not every relationship is romantic.
> 
> Secondly, if Tweek were to move on with Craig's spirit still around, it is NOT cheating. It's Tweek moving on. Just as a wife dies, her significant other may remarry, but that doesn't mean it's cheating. It's simply moving on. 
> 
> If you have questions, PLEASE ask me. I know where this story is going to be heading, so I'm more than willing to answer questions (without spoiling anything, of course).

_"Goodbyes hurt the most, when the story was not finished..." -Unknown_

* * *

The moment the front door closes, Tweek collapses on the couch, staring at the ceiling with an exhaustion he had never experienced before. His dead lover sits beside him, watching his face with concern. Everything was silent.

Tweek had a hard life, that much was obvious to anyone who’s head wasn’t shoved far up their ass. Those who noticed often tried to help, but that help wasn’t wanted by the young coffee shop owner, rather it was _needed_ by someone whose demons often controlled their mindset and life. By the time his parents realized something was wrong, it was too late. Tweek broke down at school, he didn’t sleep, didn’t eat, screamed at the voices to go away and armed himself against the Shadow People who weren’t really there. Tweek was so very alone in his world of nightmares.

Craig, however, had helped him as soon as they had gotten close enough to call each other friends. No, it didn’t help that they beat the shit out of each other in the third grade, as the memory was something Tweek always looked back on (the voices tell him Craig _meant_ to hurt him, that he didn’t mean what he said when he never wanted to fight him in the first place), but Craig was there to offer his support. 

It started with getting small things for Tweek to fidget with at school, something to distract the young boy from freaking out over any amount of stress or pressure that was placed upon his shoulders (tests and group activities were one of the main causes, then there was Cartman). Then it was a night light to scare off the Shadow People when it was dark in Tweek’s room, followed by a CD player and a CD burned with Tweek’s favorite songs to keep the voices from talking to him (Tweek hadn’t head from the voices in a long time, he notices). Eating was a completely different story. Craig and their small group of friends took turns eating with Tweek, telling him that they refused to eat unless he did, too. At first, it didn’t work. Tweek was too freaked out over the fact his friends would _starve_ if he didn’t eat, but he eventually got the point. His friends would rather suffer _with_ him rather than watch him suffer alone, and that’s what helped Tweek finally put food in his shrivelled stomach. 

As for sleep, Craig had gone to unimaginable lengths to help him. They tried warm milk and honey (though Tweek doesn’t _like_ warm milk, he found the honey was soothing and added a nice sweetness to the dairy product), sleeping medicine from the drugstore (that didn’t last long), and even watching boring documentaries (Tweek used that time to think about other things, which often riled him up even more). Finally, one day, Tweek had found a small wooden box sitting on the bottom of his locker, a note claiming it was from Craig (he had a doctor’s appointment that made him leave school early, but didn’t want to waste any time in giving the present to Tweek). It was custom made, the box a swirl of the cooler colors that often calmed the blonde. It was a music box with a soft melody he didn’t recognize.

To this day, Tweek uses the music box to sleep.

Everything he had gone through, Craig was there, no matter if they were pissed at each other or in different cities. But now, Craig was gone, and Tweek has to go through the rest of his life completely and utterly alone. Closing his eyes, Tweek thinks about Craig as a youth.

He was always sarcastic, never afraid to flip off anyone, no matter if it were a student, his sister, or the principal. His stuffy nose caused him to sound nasally, something that never really went away throughout his short life (if anything, it got worse the older Craig had gotten. Tweek found it hilarious). However, everyone had thought the ravenette was ignorant and never wanted to talk to anyone, the reason why he had few friends and hardly spoke, and even when he did, it seemed it was out of spite. It took years, but finally, Tweek understood. 

It wasn’t that he never had anything to say. It was that Craig had _a lot_ to say, but never really knew how to word his thoughts. He’d be so focused on trying to voice his opinion, to find the right words to use, that when he finally knew what to say, whoever was speaking with him was on a different topic entirely. No one bothered to ask why Craig seemed to ignore everything everyone said, no one bothered to give Craig a chance to think about his response and actually _speak_ it, and no one bothered to let Craig try again. No one but Tweek.

Tweek was the one who asked. Tweek was the one to let Craig try again. Tweek was the one who gave Craig the _chance_ to speak his mind, to voice his opinions, and when he did, the quiet Craig everyone knew wouldn’t _shut up._ He went on and on and on about space and guinea pigs and the dinner his mom cooked the night before and how Stan Marsh was a fucking idiot and how no one bothers to question the strange things that happened in South Park. He went on about how everyone else never gave him a chance to speak and how he hated the food at the only bullshit Italian restaurant in town and how he _loved_ City Wok’s city chicken with noodles and how he secretly wanted a cat and wanted one for _years,_ but his dad was so fucking allergic that a cat was so out of the question. 

Tweek had given Craig Tucker a voice.

“Tweek, you in there?” Tweek jumps, opening his brown eyes to stare at the door. He had completely forgotten all about the text Token had sent him before the funeral, stating they were going to celebrate Craig’s life _their_ way. Craig watches as the coffee shop owner stood and opened the door, revealing Token, Clyde, and Jimmy.

“Hey man, how are you holding up?” Clyde tries. Craig facepalms. If anything, the ignorant bastard was _Clyde,_ not him. Tweek shrugs.

“Terrible,” he admits. “I wasn’t expecting to speak at _his_ funeral, you know? Don’t really want to go out, but I guess we have to, huh?” Token steps into the house, a hand on the shorter male’s shoulder. Tweek was always taller than Craig.

“We don’t have to go, if you really don’t want to. I know his funeral was today and all, but Craig would’ve wanted us to do something different for him,” Token reasons.

“I want you guys to realize I’m not entirely gone,” Craig mutters, his words unheard, as always.

“I guess,” Tweek sighs. He stands aside to let the others in. “Give me a few minutes so I can get dressed.” Jimmy closes the door behind him as Tweek travels to the second story. Craig stays behind, standing by the window to watch his three best friends look solemnly at each other.

“I miss Craig,” Clyde says, tears falling. Jimmy and Token nod, rubbing the brunette’s back as he breaks down. “He was my super best friend!” Craig sighs softly.

“First of all, you sound like Kyle Broflovski and Stan fucking Marsh. Secondly, I’m still here, you dumbass. I’ll always be your ‘super’ best friend,” he retorts. Again, no one replies to him, much less looks near the window.

“Is it j-juh-just me, or did it-t get colder in h-here?” Jimmy asks. The three go silent (rather, Token and Jimmy do, but Clyde cries a little quieter). Craig watches with an eyebrow raised, folding his arms across his chest.

“Do you think Craig really left?” Clyde sniffles. Token looks around, biting his bottom lip. 

“I’m not sure,” he admits. “I’d like to say he did-”

“I didn’t, you dipshits,” Craig cuts in.

“-but at the same time, he might not have. There’s no way to know for sure.” Tweek emerges from the stairs, his eyes dull.

“Are you ready to go?” he mumbles. Craig perks up, feeling a slight pull to his living lover. This only happened when Tweek was carrying something of Craig’s.

“Wearing Craig’s shirt?” Jimmy smiles, his teasing half assed. Tweek nods, zipping the rest of his jacket up. Man, Craig forgot all about that shirt.

“Let’s go.” Wordlessly, the five boys leave the house, only walking down the sidewalk when Tweek checks the lock to the door a couple of times. Craig walks right next to Tweek, glad he would be able to come with.

The outside was so much different than being inside their shared house. Craig could see _everything_ in a different light. The snow sparkled more, the sun was brighter, and all of the colors were enhanced to turn a dump like South Park into the most beautiful town he’s ever seen. However, there’s a problem. 

Craig can also see other spirits. 

He watches as the poltergeists pick on Butters, as Stan’s old dog (what was his name again? Craig can’t really remember, but he was pretty damn sure the dog was gay) chases birds that paid Sparky (aha! Craig’s proud he can remember things more quickly. A perk, he muses, of being dead) no mind, and even Mrs. Donovan watching with a bright smile as Mr. Donovan tends to her garden, her wedding band hanging on a necklace hidden under the older man’s shirt. Good things and bad things.

The ravenette half listens to their chatter, waving to Chef as he strolls down the opposite sidewalk. Being dead wasn’t all that bad.

“Hey, what about using a spirit board?” Clyde was saying. All that beauty Craig was seeing was destroyed.

“What?!” he yells, gathering the attention of the other spirits. Mrs. Donovan looks skeptical, having heard her son’s outrageous suggestion.

“What?” Tweek repeats, his eyes wide. 

“Didn’t some guy try communicating with your mom using one? I remember him being a scam,” Token rationalizes. Clyde rubs the back of his neck.

“I know, but we can do it without some other guy scamming us,” he says. Craig really wants to punch him. “Maybe we can get ahold of Craig.”

“Whoa, you’re saying it like Craig will easily p-pick up the phone,” Jimmy replies, giving Clyde an odd look. Tweek stays silent, even when Craig puts a hand on his arm.

“He might! I dunno, but it’s worth a shot!” Clyde retorts.

“What if it _isn’t_ Craig what comes through? Then what?” Clyde stares at Token, an unreadable expression in his eyes.

“It’s worth a shot,” he repeats. The five men stop on the sidewalk, staring at each other (mostly at Clyde).

“Don’t do it,” Craig mumbles to Tweek. He knows he offered the idea to Kenny not even twenty minutes ago, but after realizing anyone _else_ can go through worries him.

“I say let’s do it,” Jimmy says. Token shrugs.

“If you’re that dead set on attempting to talk to him, sure.” Everyone stares at Tweek.

“It’s not worth it, honey. Just say no,” Craig pleads. Tweek takes a deep breath.

“I’m in.” Clyde, Token, and Jimmy grin at the blonde, not noticing Mr. (and Mrs.) Donovan walking over.

“Hey there, boys. Whatcha doing?” Craig ignores the living, focusing his eyes on Mrs. Donovan. She still looks as beautiful as the day she died.

“What would you do, if you were in my situation?” he asks. Mrs. Donovan smiles softly, her green eyes, eyes that she had passed down to Clyde, glittering.

“If you really want to talk to your friends, and to Tweek, then go ahead,” she replies.

“But what if something else goes through? What if I’m not there when they try?” Mrs. Donovan smiles warmly, her eyes closing slightly.

“You’ll be there. I know you will, sweetie. Now, bend down so I can rub your head. You _have_ grown since the last time I saw you alive, you know,” she laughs. Craig smiles and bends down, closing his eyes and the woman pats his head like she used to. He _has_ to be there when they use the damn spirit board.

He just has to.


	3. A/N

Hey guys! Very long time, no see! I apologize about that. However, I come bearing news. I opened up a Discord server specifically for my fics, so feel free to join! We're cool, I swear. 

https://discord.gg/7HePKmV

See you there!

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed the chapter, please leave a comment, kudo, bookmark, and subscribe to get updated on when a new chapter is up!


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